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Sinner.
Your footsteps were soft against the worn floorboards, yet they echoed in the vastness of the cathedral. Stained glass windows depicting saints and martyrs stood tall lining either side of you, the varying colors casting fractured sunlight across the stone. The morning was still, almost oppressive, and the faint traces of burning incense mingled with melted unscented candle wax and gossiping mouths. None of it managed to soothe the weight of last week’s argument.
Sinner.
That title echoed, clawing at you with its fury.
Last week on Sunday, after attending 10am mass and quickly heading home with your parents, another pointless argument ensued.
Change wasn't easy. It burdened you, clinging to you like heavy chains that threatened to drag you down with nearly every step. That much could apply to anybody.
But this feeling... it suffocated you.
Your family had uprooted your life with zero hesitation, moving to a smaller town and dragging you with them. Promises that a change of scenery was all they needed to cleanse you of the sin the city life held despite them being responsible for raising you there in the first place.
The quiet atmosphere, the isolation knowing your closest neighbor was a nearly twenty-five minute walk through old roads and shrubbery, the lack of anything remotely resembling the life you once knew ate at your already aching soul.
You hated it.
You preferred to go back to where you previously lived, the place that'd always be home to you no matter where you went. Back there were bustling streets and familiar faces that didn't leave you in such a sour mood every time you saw them.
But here? Here, every attempt to reason with your overly zealot parents in hopes of making them understand why you wanted to return had all ended the same way: their voices raising in frustration, their shouts proclaiming you to be a sinner drifting from the Lord slicing through you like pointed daggers.
It was all useless.
The uneven thrum of your heartbeat rang loudly in your ears and felt rough against your ribcage. Each step that led you down the center of the church pews and towards the back of the building had your legs turning to jelly.
Were you having a heart attack? It sure felt like it.
Sinner.
Perhaps it was the lingering words of your Mother calling you a harlot, referring back to a time when you sheepishly kissed a boy in your early teens after being dared by your friends—the only reason for her knowing this was because of her shamelessly snooping through your phone at the time. Or maybe it was your Father who shot up from his recliner, arrogantly waving the Holy Book and obnoxiously reciting proverbs, one after the other, making your eyes droop in exhaustion.
No matter how calmly you spoke, praying to the Lord it’d finally get through their thick skulls, it all ended the fucking same.
After the ridiculous argument left you feeling guilty, you had passed by your church that same afternoon, hoping you’d be granted a private confessional session to pour your heart out. Thankfully, your priest Silco had agreed.
It was 8am on Sunday, over a week from when you last spoke one on one with him. Mass wasn’t slated to begin for another hour or two so there were only a few small groups of people in early attendance, most waiting outside.
You stood in front of the crushed velvet curtains that led into the small confessional room located in a quiet corner away from crowds. It was known your church's priest Silco would be waiting on the other side despite the early hour, whether it be assisting a worried church attendee desperately seeking to rid of any sin they've committed, or simply enjoying a quiet moment to himself surrounded by dimly lit candlelight and a Bible in his lap before morning Mass.
But this time it was just the two of you.
There were two sides divided by the ornate screen, with one side already occupied by presumably Silco, leaving you to enter the opposing space.
Clinging to the strap of your crossbody bag, you snaked your trembling arm between the thick crimson fabric and pushed past them. Inside the room was small as all confessional booths had been.
Something about it felt different, yet you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
You quickly perched atop the small wooden bench and removed your bag from your shoulder, lazily propping it against the wall then going to dust off your knee-length sundress, its cutesy floral patterns hard to make out in the darkness. Soon you were met with faint rustling, signaling none other than Silco himself on the other end.
The words caught in your throat before you could even muster up the courage to speak. Breathe, you thought, clutching at the rosary you instinctively pulled from your bag in search of comfort, Just breathe.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” Your voice trembled, barely audible above a whisper.
A hum of acknowledgment came from the other side of the screen. The deep rumbling sound was enough to have your fingers nervously tracing over the silver cross, the metal cool in your clammy palms.
Silco’s voice emerged, low and calm, soothing in tone but edged with the weight of a man who carried both power and patience. “Mm, a heavy way to begin, isn’t it?” His soft rasp curled like smoke, deliberate and unhurried.
There was a pause before he continued, noting the way you struggled to speak.
“No need to be nervous.” He observed plainly and you mildly cringed. Was it really that easy for him to read your body language in the quiet? “You’ve come to make amends.”
You nodded slowly, holding the rosary beads close to your chest, “Yes, I have.”
Silco leaned back, the wooden slats creaking beneath him as he did so. A gentle thud of something thick shut closed, a book perhaps. “Go on then, tell me. What sins weigh so heavily on your shoulders, child?”
Another beat.
“Speak freely, all that’s spoken within these walls will remain between us and the Lord.” His hushed words didn’t push but instead lingered, like the steady flame of a candle flicking its warm hues patiently waiting to be seen.
“I…” You trailed off, “I’ve strayed down the path of sin once again. My parents, we had another… disagreement last week. That’s why I asked to be met with you in a private session today.”
Silco hummed once again, the sound of contemplating reverberating through the partition. His interest was certainly peaked, not like he hadn’t heard of familial tribulations before. “Ah, family.” He mused, as if tasting the words rolling them over his tongue like aged wine.
“They—they don’t listen.” You admitted sounding rather exhausted. “We’ve only just moved here over a few months ago and yet I find it hard to adjust. I’ve tried to speak with them, but whenever I try to make them understand it’s like…”
You took a breath, eyes shutting momentarily as your grip around the small cross tightened before loosening again. “...like talking to a brick wall. One that only ever looks at me with judgement.”
“And what was it this time?” Silco’s voice was level, not condemning nor overly sympathetic, it opened the door for you to unburden whatever troubled you. “You say you’ve moved here a few months ago, yet surely there’s more to it that’d have your parents holding such disappointment over you.”
“I want to move back to the life I once knew, back to the city.” Letting out a shaky sigh, you leaned back against the bench. You sank down feeling so small. So pathetic. “They say I’ve strayed from the path He laid out for me. That I’m selfish and disobedient for even considering the idea of going back to the place that drew me to sin.”
At your confession, the voices of your parents echoed loudly in your mind. The insults they threw at you behind the proclamation that this was the way to save your soul from damnation leaving you frustrated in one too many ways to fathom.
You were an adult for fucks sake, in your mid-twenties no less! You should've been out on your own, witnessing the world and spending your years making life as enjoyable as possible with people you actually liked being around.
Yet here you were, living in a dingy old house, settled in isolation overgrown with fields of wheat and willow trees and rundown shady antique shops.
Here you were seated in a damn confessional booth, defeated and laying your unfortunate soul bare for your priest to witness.
You Goddamn sinner.
“Surely there’s nothing wrong with wanting something else from this, right? To want more?” Your throat tightened, yet your voice raised with desperation to be seen, to be understood for once in your life. “This can’t be it—”
“Do you believe you’ve sinned?” His question caught you off guard, having stopped the tirade that was mere seconds from spewing out of you.
You blinked. Your lips parted with no immediate answer.
Do you believe you’ve sinned?
Did you?
Did voicing your frustrations and desires of wanting to gain control of your life truly make you wicked in the eyes of God as your parents had insisted?
“I… I don’t know.” Your gaze lowered to the floor. “I just feel lost. Please , Father Silco, I want to get rid of these sins, whether or not I’ve truly committed any. I feel… impure, please .”
A low chuckle echoed through the dimly lit confessional, Silco’s voice like the very velvet curtains that blocked the outside world now wrapping around you. It was as unexpected as his question had been just moments earlier.
The flames of the few candles flickered, stoking at the subtle shift in the air.
For the first time since entering the confessional, your gaze rose from the floor to meet his through the latticed screen. In the low light, Silco’s mismatched eyes bore into you from beneath the shadows, his volcanic orange pupil in a pool of black sclera on his left much more prominent than the soft sea-foam green on his right.
There was something different in the way he looked at you. The few times you’ve attended Church during his sermons his gaze may have lingered over you just as it had over all the other attendees.
But it never felt like this .
Or perhaps it did, you were just too naive to see it.
The contours of his angular face seemed sharper underneath the temperate candle flame, and the marred side of his cheek with foundation laid thickly over it to cover most of his greying skin appeared all the more haunting. All the more alluring.
“Very well then.” Silco spoke, rising from his seat to close the short distance from the bench to the divider between you. He leaned in, the tip of his nose nearly nudging at the thin screen. “Let us search for your redemption together.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. His words dripped with a darker undertone than before. Something sensual, something sinister.
Shaking the feeling away, you held up your clasped hands in prayer, your rosary dangling from between your palms. “Please, Father Silco, correct my ways. Even if I haven’t strayed like they say I have, lead me back to Him.”
There was another pause. The silence in the room thickened, stretching taut like the very rosary in your hands being pulled too tightly between your fidgeting fingers. Silco remained quiet at first, almost as if he were meditating on your words, but his lingering gaze on you never faltered.
“Sometimes,” He began, his voice low, nearly reverent. “confession alone is not enough to guide one’s soul back to righteousness.”
You blinked, your grip on your rosary faltering for the briefest moment.
He continued, “I am unaware if previous churches you’ve attended had practiced as such, but there exists… older rites. Not often spoken of, reserved only for the truly burdened. The truly lost.”
You felt it again, but this time it was unshakeable. Something sinister was brewing. That pounding in your chest was unlike how it’d been earlier when you entered the cathedral.
Sensing your confusion and the lack of a response, Silco’s words came softly. “These private cleansing rituals require more than words. They require something deeper, if you’re willing.”
You hesitated, gaze drawn to the faint flicker of candlelight catching against the edge of his mouth that spread into a predatory smile. “If it’ll bring me back to the Lord, back to His light… then I want to try.”
Then, a click . The quiet click of a latch unexpectedly followed by the barely audible rattle of wood as Silco opened the divider door.
“Come.” Silco commanded, now standing in front of you without a barrier.
That’s when it dawned on you.
That feeling of something being different in this confessional room as opposed to all the other ones you’ve seen had been confirmed. This was no ordinary booth at all. It had been deliberately designed with the divider set on wheels, ones much too small to be noticeable unless you really squinted in the purposely dim lighting.
Had… had he done this intentionally?
His mismatched gaze softened and he reached out a hand, beckoning you forward with a single finger.
You followed, swallowing hard as you stepped closer to his side of the confessional. It was like crossing an unseen threshold, one outside the realm of the sacred saints and leading into something far more dangerous.
At least you had more breathing room.
Standing before him, Silco would reach up at the ceiling, unhooking something that sent another set of thick curtains to cover the first layer. The fabric brushed against your side on its way down, acting as a second barrier that further blocked any light from outside.
“Kneel.”
You barely had time to process the small compartment in the wall with a small black box and a porcelain dish as Silco reached for his Holy Bible on the bench behind him.
“Huh?”
Something thick and heavy pressed against your shoulder, “Kneel.”
As if on command—with the added pressure of Silco’s Bible pushing you down—you found yourself kneeling before your priest. He loomed over you, his height emphasized by the shadows casted over him.
“Hold out your wrists for me, dear.” A shiver ran down your spine.
Obeying with slight hesitation, you outstretched your hands, rosary draped over your palms open and facing upward not in prayer—but in offering.
Silco’s nearly imperceptible smirk widened as he gazed down upon you for a few moments longer. Then, he reached a hand towards the compartment, your squinted eyes following his movement.
Another click, but this time from the black box’s lid being opened. Silco sifted through the contents.
“With each word you speak,” He pulled out a red colored candle and a lighter, flipping up the guard and pressing firmly on the metal wheel. “release your burden.”
It took only a second strike at the wheel for sparks to catch the wick.
“Let your mouth speak what your heart hides, for this is not just confession, my dear.” Silco stepped closer, fingers curling tightly around the base of the newly lit candle. It tilted forward leaving your breath stuttering.
Hot wax beaded at the edge, swelling and trembling with every passing second.
“This is communion between sinner and shepherd.” The first drop fell. The wax landed on your wrist with a faint sizzle.
You flinched at the burn. Silco smiled.
“And as your shepherd, it is my obligation to lead lost little lambs back to the flock.” Silco tilted the candle further letting another droplet fall on your other wrist, evening out the artistry he was delicately crafting.
The feeling of melted wax on your already sensitive skin would’ve had you calling for a time out if it weren’t for the circumstances. It wasn’t the kind of burn that’d leave you scarred, but it definitely stung.
“Father Silco—” Your first words spoken since the ornate screen had been pushed aside were cut off by Silco’s soft shush.
“Impure, you say?” He shook his head recalling your words, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. “And yet… here you are, seeking penance from a man who himself walks a fine line between righteousness and damnation.”
Another stream of wax trailed over from the bend of your wrist and down your forearm, forming a seal that hardened with sadistic grace. Your body quivered beneath the heat and you hunched forward.
“Ah-ah, straighten your back, little lamb.” You flinched at the feeling of Silco’s heavy Bible pressing between your shoulder blades, urging you to adjust your posture while indirectly moving you closer to an area you tried your hardest not to look at.
Silco removed the book from against your back, placing the bottom of its spine beneath your chin to coax your gaze upward when he noticed it faltering. He stepped impossibly closer, and you could smell the faint spice of tobacco that clung to his robes.
Musky, herbal, mingling with the scent of heady cologne and something else entirely.
Something uniquely him.
“Repeat after me—I do not know if I’ve sinned.”
Your lips parted, “I do not know if I’ve sinned.”
“Yet I open myself to redemption.”
“Yet I— haa-” A few more drops of wax landed in your palms. “I open myself to redemption.”
Silco chuckled again. “If I am lost, let Your Will find me.”
“If I am lost, let Your Will find me.” The pounding in your chest grew louder and a rosy blush burned in your cheeks.
Slowly, he set down his Bible on the small bench. He brought his hand forward tracing over your cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. “Not through punishment.”
You shuddered at the tickle of his warm skin drawing lines along your features. “Not… not through punishment.”
“But through understanding.”
“But through understanding…”
The flame flickered. “Through surrender.”
Your gaze lingered on his hand wrapped around the candle, unable to meet his darkened eyes. “...Through surrender.”
Silco hummed softly, a hum of approval. “Do you feel Him now?” He whispered.
Setting down the candle in the small compartment, he slipped his hand lower to cradle the underside of your chin, his fingers pressing gently but firm in silent instruction to look directly at him.
“Because He feels you.”
Within in a blink his grip on your chin tightened enough to squish the sides of your jaw as he tugged you upwards, leaning down in tandem to capture your trembling lips onto his.
You gasped against his mouth, the combined shock from Silco hoisting you up and his tongue wasting little time in finding its way between your lips had your wax drenched hands grabbing at his robes for leverage.
“Sil— mmh-!” You could barely get his name out as both of his hands held you up. One hand beneath your jawline, the other at the nape of your neck keeping you steady.
Silco tilted his head to the right, kissing you deeper, groaning lowly.
You struggled to hold on.
This wasn’t the kiss of a holy man. It was rough, unrelenting, as if the fervor of temptation had taken over. Possessed by hunger hidden beneath the cloak of sanctity.
Your whimpers of inexperience were enough to have him gentling his movements for just a moment. Silco’s fingers pressed into the back of your neck in reassurance, his opposing hand moving from your jaw to rest over one of yours clinging on his robes. His thumb caressed the back of your wrist giving it a soft squeeze.
He pulled away, leaving only a hairbreadth of space as he gazed down at you, the blazing intensity of his eyes and sharp edges of his features having your knees weak.
Your chest rose and fell fast. You didn’t speak right away, you couldn’t, not with how Silco stole the breath from your lungs. And he reveled in it.
“Silco—”
“Father Silco.” He corrected, his fingers tangling in your hair as he lifted you off the floor. “Up.”
You stood on your feet only to yelp rather loudly when Silco reached down, breaching just beneath the hem of your sundress to pull you onto him by the back of your legs. He sat down, bringing you with him to straddle his lap.
Your thighs sank into the plush folds of his robes slightly stained with wax from where you held onto him moments earlier. The soft fabric of your sundress draped over your lap, scrunching at where it met Silco’s abdomen.
Silco leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Quiet, my sweet lamb, you wouldn’t want anyone else bearing witness to your salvation, now would you?”
“No.” You murmured, your hands—still somehow clutching your rosary despite all of this—curled against your chest. A physical demonstration of both hesitation and shyness.
“Good.” In seconds his lips were on yours again, much softer than the first initial kiss, but still holding the same passion.
It wasn’t rushed and you silently thanked the Lord for that.
You eased into it, moaning softly when he trailed his hands from the sides of your legs over your hips and up the center of your spine.
Silco’s lips were firm, experienced. No shred of hesitation in guiding your lost soul. You leaned in without realizing, your hands balling into fists as you scooted closer receiving a grunt in response. Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch, to hold on, to grab onto him in efforts to ground yourself.
Sensing your wants he reached for your hands, his touch enough to soothe the strain in your tightened fists and resting them onto his chest.
“Feel me, my dear, feel my heartbeat.” He murmured against your lips before slotting his own back into place. It's as if his patience was beginning to thin.
How could it not?
The feel of your body on his lap, the taste of your innocence, the way you shivered at just the smallest touch had every nerve lighting on fire. He wanted more of it.
No.
He needed more of it.
You moaned into his mouth again, gripping at the front of his robes when he began to fondle your breasts.
You weren’t a prude by any means, you were fully aware what sex was whether it’d been through the mouths of those who didn’t understand TMI, or through late night internet searches when your curiosity was at its highest, but no one had ever touched you like this before. For the first person to do so being your priest of all people had an unfamiliar ache forming between your legs and a heavy void in your chest.
Sinner.
“Father Silco.” You gasped, tasting the remnants of tobacco on his tongue as he slipped it into the wet cavern of your mouth for a second time. His rough tastebuds dragged along yours in sloppy motion, drool beading at the corner of your lips. “Will this really- haah —cleanse me?”
Silco squeezed your breast. “Redemption does not come freely, my little lamb. It demands trust…”
A string of saliva connected your mouths when he pulled back, “It demands sacrifice.”
In one swift motion Silco grabbed your hands and pulled them behind your back, taking the rosary from you and twisting it around your wrists to bind them together.
You whimpered, straining against the makeshift rosary cuffs. He grabbed a fistful of hair tilting your head back as his lips began lining kisses along your jaw. He moved down the column of your neck, each press of his mouth leaving a trail of saliva sent shivers down your spine.
“Trust in the Lord’s plan, child.” His hands slid down to cup your ass, lifting you slightly as he thrusted upward to meet your downward motion, pressing his bulge into your clothed mound.
“Oh my-mmh—” You bit down on your bottom lip stupidly reminding yourself you had to keep quiet. That there were people in the same building as Mass was to start soon.
Neither of you knew how much time had passed since you first stepped into the confessional, and with the way things were going, neither of you truly seemed to care.
“Mmmhh.” Silco groaned into your collarbone, bucking his hips up again with much more force wanting to feel more of you. Needing to feel more of you. He knew he had to exercise restraint, that prolonging your pleasure would make you beg for him.
But fuck…
The feel of your wet cunt soaking through your panties was unbearable when he urged you to keep grinding on him, even with all layers of fabric between the two of you.
That’s when he realized.
Such a naughty thing.
You weren’t wearing any shorts under your dress.
“Beautiful,” Silco’s mouth found its way between the valley of your breasts, fingers tugging the top of your dress down to reveal the lace of your bra. “Truly a vision fit for God.”
You mewled, obeying his silent commands to grind over his hardened cock as he worked to pull the sleeves of your dress and bra straps down.
“Quiet, little lamb.” He reminded you, his eyes flicking up to observe the pleasure etching into your features.
Silco tugged down the top of your bra just enough for your tits to slip out. He leaned lower, kissing the curve of the supple flesh as he teased a pert nipple between his fingers.
You moaned arching into him, silently damning him for binding your wrists together as you wanted to push his head towards the pretty peak he gazed so hungrily at.
It must’ve been noticeable in the way you whined because Silco had moved in the direction you wanted and took your nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue with a satisfied hum.
“Mm, you taste absolutely divine.” His voice muffled around your flesh.
The rosy blush on your cheeks had spread across your entire face by this point, and Silco smiled.
“Oh God…” You struggled to keep your sounds low, writhing at his cold tongue encircling the hardened peak wishing so desperately to let out all the filthy sounds you forced back.
Then again, it’s not like the idea of being caught with your priest—especially in a place meant for salvation—didn’t send jolts of sinful thrill straight to your core.
Your hips never stopped, only quickening with need that had you both grunting and gasping, wanting to claw at each other in the confines of the confessional.
That’s when Silco brought a hand down in the midst of his suckling on your opposing breast to slip it beneath your dress and trace his fingertips over your lacy panties.
He groaned unexpectedly loud when he was met with the feel of you absolutely pathetically drenched.
“My my, how filthy.” He chuckled darkly, releasing your nipple with a wet pop and pressing two fingers over the soaked fabric beginning to rub back and forth.
Your grinding stuttered. “Aah- Silco!”
Silco crashed his lips onto yours, groaning with disapproval at your failure to address him properly. He swallowed the inappropriate sounds spilling from you before anyone outside could hear. His tongue snaked into your mouth with a voraciousness that threatened to eat you alive.
“Open yourself to Him, my lost little lamb,” He pulled your wet panties to the side, sliding his calloused fingers between your slick folds. “to me.”
Your eyes widened as a slender finger breached your entrance, sinking slowly into your cunt. Silco kept it still, letting you get used to the feel of a single digit inside you knowing he needed to prep you for his cock.
This was his path to righteousness after all.
A gentle pump.
You hunched forward, your forehead falling to his shoulder as his finger moved in and out. It felt good. Strange, but so damn good.
Silco’s pace was deliberately slow. He wanted you to feel his finger, to bask in the pleasure he gave you with just the softest touch. That restraint didn’t last long when you wiggled yourself onto his hand, grinding your exposed clit over the curve of his wrist.
His cock twitched in his boxers and his breathing became much more labored at the sight. You gasped when he pushed a second finger in, curling the tips upward to stroke the spongy roof.
“O-oh- my—” You began to ride his fingers, moving yourself back and forth as he pumped faster.
It was difficult to see Silco’s face from the angle you laid your head, but the flickering warm hues from the still lit red candle caught along the edge of his mouth just enough for you to see he was practically drooling.
“That’s it, dear.” Silco’s voice rumbled deeply in your ear. He planted a light kiss at the juncture of your neck and jawline. “Pour out all your guilt and shame to the Lord…”
You were in a state of bliss, the world around you melted further and further away following each thrust of his fingers. He angled his wrist, sliding a third finger in with little resistance stretching your cunt and hitting that sweet spot.
It was a surprise you hadn’t cried out mercy at that very moment, because with the way your body twitched and shook on his lap it was clear you were close.
That pleasure built higher and higher.
His fingers thrusted faster, hit deeper.
An unfamiliar coil tightened in the pit of your stomach leading you to bite down on his shoulder to suppress your noise. The wet squelch from your dripping pussy was obscenely loud in the claustrophobic space, somehow louder than Silco’s filthy words.
“Yes,” He hissed, “Show your devotion, my sweet lamb. Show me how much you ache for salvation.”
Oh God.
Your muffled whines grew louder, his fingers reaching depths you never thought possible.
“Mmh—! Please, please, please!” Your pussy pulsed around his fingers.
The rubber band wasn’t too far from snapping.
You continued to plead, kicking your feet and nuzzling dumbly into the crook of his neck as you practically bounced on his lap losing yourself.
Only then did you whimper at the feeling of emptiness, glancing down to see his sodden hand glistening with your juices withdrawing from beneath your dress.
“Wh—” You sat up as straight as you could, your eyes you hadn’t even realized were brimming with tears sought for answers in his sinister gaze.
Silco, in his ever sadistic nature, brought his dry hand to your nape tangling with your messy hair in a bruisingly tight grip. “Beg for His forgiveness.”
You sat there wincing at the sting of him tugging your head back. The damn bastard laughed for the first time, a genuine laugh, taking pride in your pain and utter confusion after having denied you ecstacy when you were so fucking close.
Such a pitiful lamb.
Such a pathetic lost soul.
He leaned in, nipping at your earlobe, “Beg.”
“Father Silco, please— I-” You breathed heavily, trying to lower yourself onto his bulge only for him to yank you up just enough for you to hover. “—ah! Please. Forgive me, please, I lay my soul bare. I surrender myself to Him. To—to you.”
Using his unclean hand he palmed his bulge, not caring that he was further staining his robes with such filth. Silco groaned, his mismatched eyes taking you in as he pleasured himself, and my what a sight you were to behold.
You entered the cathedral in a cutesy floral sundress that ended just below your knees. Your hair was thoroughly brushed and styled the way you liked, and you only wore a small amount of makeup as you hadn’t given yourself any more time to get ready before rushing here.
Now here you were, straddling your priest like a dirty little sinner. The top of your dress and lacy bra pulled below your tits, your nipples bruised an almost identical red to your flushed face from how shamelessly he sucked. Saliva coating your neck in messy trails, mimicking the faint streams of mascara that ran over your cheeks.
Your cunt dripping, aching, clenching around nothing wishing he’d just fucking take you.
Silco dipped his hand beneath his robes, laughing once again when you kicked your feet whining impatiently, and pulled his twitching cock free from the confines of his clothing.
It stood tall, heavy, the veins prominent even in the low lighting.
Your breath hitched. For a moment a flicker of hesitation crossed your features, his size catching you off guard.
Again, you weren’t a prude by any means, but fuck did it terrify you just imagining how it’d feel going inside of you.
Silco’s sadistic demeanor softened slightly seeing your genuine worry. He loosened his hold on your hair to draw slow circles around your back with his calloused fingers. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to how it was yanking your head back just seconds earlier.
“Trust, my sweet lamb.” He kissed the tear that slipped down your cheek. His lips lingered there acting as a balm to soothe your nerves. “Trust in me.”
“Mmnh…” You sighed softly, nodding at his calming words.
After ensuring you were okay, Silco stroked his cock, using the wetness left over from when he fingered you to lube himself up.
He flipped up the skirt of your dress to give himself a clear view of your pussy. The sight of it had him shuddering, muttering a quiet fuck as he rested both hands at your hips to lift you up.
Silco lined your cunt directly over the aching head of his cock, bucking his hips upward just enough for it to nudge between the slick labia. The sensation of it teasing you led you to whimper as you prepared yourself.
And slowly, he lowered you down. The tip pushed past your entrance. Thank God he prepped you earlier with his fingers, because with the way his girth had you stretching around the head it was clear you wouldn’t have been able to take him right away.
“Ohh, Silco…” Your mewl drew out. You were back to resting onto his shoulder this time with your face buried into the fabric of his robes there.
He hadn’t cared about your failure to address him properly a second time, too focused on your heat pulling him in to give a shit. His unmatched eyes flashed with primal hunger as you took the first inch of his thick cock. Silco held his breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh watching him continue to disappear into you.
“That’s it,” He groaned, “Take me completely, my dear.”
“Mmmngh—” Another inch pushed in.
“You’re doing -oh— doing so beautifully.” He praised with a mixture of encouragement and dark satisfaction. “Just a little more, shit, and you’ll be one with —haa the Lord…”
It’s no wonder older women took up a majority of the church’s crowd during Silco’s sermons. When you first started attending Mass, you hadn’t given Silco’s presence a second thought beyond how odd his heterochromic eyes looked, how he looked intimidating, mentally noting the way his orange eye seemed to glow beneath the shadows of his brow bone.
But you understood it now, just what it was that made all the older women swoon.
It wasn’t just the mysterious alluring aura Silco carried wherever he went. It wasn’t just his angular features and unique scarring hidden beneath foundation that had you glancing his way more than once.
It was his voice. That deep gravelly voice drawing you in like a siren’s song.
You grinned unremorsefully against his shoulder—your cunt clamping around Silco’s cock as it continued to slide into your depths—taking pride in knowing those women would give anything to be in the very position you were in.
You Goddamn sinner.
“Remember the feeling of me, my little lamb.” Silco pushed deeper, each incremental inch stretching you further. The burn of penetration gave way to a dull ache, your core fluttering with illicit excitement even as your body protested the intrusion. “For this is just one of our many future communions.”
He couldn’t contain himself any longer. He thrusted upwards fully sheathing inside of you, filling you completely with his pulsing dick. He paused for a moment, smirking widely at your little cry from his thrust, savoring the sensation of being deeply embedded within your walls.
“Recite your prayer, sweetheart.” Silco urged, kissing the side of your neck with an intense almost fanatical fervor as he began to move.
It took a second to fully process what he was asking of you as you were too focused on how stuffed you were. Stuffed with him.
“Aah, I do not know —mmh!” You whimpered. “Do—do not know if I’ve sinned-”
“Continue.” Silco’s hands roamed your back, kneading the muscles through the soft fabric of your dress.
His cock slid in and out of your quivering canal in shallow strokes. Each thrust sent wave after wave of pleasure rippling through your core, mingling with the dull pain from the stretch.
“Yet I ohh—open myself to redemption…” You moaned into his collarbone, your face fitting against his neck like a mask molded just for you.
A low, guttural groan escaped Silco’s throat as he felt your inner muscles tighten around him. He increased the pace of his thrusts, pulling his cock out further before driving it back into you with desperation.
“If I am lost,” It was getting harder to make out your words. “L aaahh-! Let Your Will find me…”
The heat of your cunt wrapped around Silco’s cock had his head spinning, urging him to go faster, deeper, harder. “Go on, my sweet lamb.” He growled, moving one hand from your back to grip your hip bone.
You cursed under your breath, your eyebrows knitting together as you did your best to recall the prayer he’d given you earlier, already too cockdrunk to think clearly. “...Not through oh God- punishment, but through understanding.”
His other hand still on your back continued squeezing possessively at your flesh as angling his hips to rut into your willing body. The new angle had his dick hitting that same sweet spot his fingers probed earlier. Only this time were you truly seeing stars.
“Through—” Silco gritted his teeth, his primal grunts barely suppressed in the small space. “surrender.”
You gasped, bracing your body onto his chest. “Through aah— surrender!” If it weren’t for your rosary keeping your wrists bound, you would’ve clung to him like a koala.
The confessional booth shook with the force of his movements, the wood rattling ominously beneath you. Lewd sounds of bodies hitting together echoed, flesh slamming down on flesh, and your sweet moans muffling into his neck mingled with his strained groans of exertion.
God, where on Earth were you?
Surely you had to be in Heaven by now. It definitely felt like it.
Your eyes rolled when Silco pulled himself almost entirely just to slam himself back into your welcoming heat. Your mascara trailed sloppy streams over your cheeks as tears beaded at the corners of your eyes, rolling down to further grow the wet stains on Silco’s shoulder caused by your drool.
You didn’t give a shit.
And clearly he didn’t either.
“Sil—co-oh… Fa- fuck— Father Silc- oh—” Your moans morphed into full on babbling.
Silco wrapped his arms around you to pull you close in a bear hug, nudging the side of his face into your jawline as he lost himself in the throes of what he could only describe as religious ecstasy.
Lost himself in the throes of you.
His sweet lost lamb.
His filthy little sinner.
“Holy Father,” He bared his teeth in a feral snarl, growling as he began to pray over your writhing form. “I implore your huff- forgiveness and everlasting love you’ve offered—mmph- through your sa- ahh- crifice on the cross.”
You bit down on his neck, now raising yourself when Silco pulled his cock out from your cunt to grind it back down meeting his upward motions heightening the pleasure to new levels.
“I declare and decree the shit…” Silco’s cock pistoned in and out of your spasming walls, stirring up a maelstrom of forbidden euphoria. “—the sin as nothing but washed away and fffuuh- forgiven.”
“Yes yes yes, oh my—” Your teeth latched on his throat harder and Silco gasped and clawed at your back in response.
“I absolve you in your sins, in the name of the Father, the Son,” He bellowed as he hit deeper and deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each ferocious thrust that had your body seizing with overstimulation.
Silco nuzzled into your temple and licked strips on your cheek to lap at your tears while his nails dug crescent moon shapes into your flexed shoulder blades. His eyes glowed with an unholy light reveling in knowing it was him to have caused such beautiful tears, to have brought you to such sinful salvation.
No one else. Only him.
“Fuckfuckfuck-Silco—!”
“...and the Holy Spirit!” Silco’s control completely shattered as he drove into with reckless abandon, his hips slamming into yours with such force that’d for sure make it impossible to walk out of the church without a limp.
That same tightening feeling from when he fingered you was back, amplified by Silco’s greedy hands scratching red lines into your body slicked with sweat and his dirty incoherent words.
Your cunt fluttered around him, pulsing with signs of your climax approaching.
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease…” You cried meekly, drooling pathetically.
“Aah, nnmmfuck—” Silco muttered hoarsely. Your cute whimpers served to further his frenzied crescendo as he chased both his release and yours.
Your velvety walls gripped him like a vice, sucking him back in every time he pulled his cock out.
And with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his facing contorting and his hips jerking as spurts of his hot cum filled your poor overstuffed pussy to the brim.
At the same time, that coiled that tightened in your core finally snapped. You moaned into his neck, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, and your pussy clamped down on his cock as pure bliss washed through your writhing form.
Silco’s arms wrapped around you possessively, cradling you close when you fully collapsed onto him to catch your breath. Your teeth were no longer digging into his flesh, but when you pulled back you felt both a mild pang of guilt and impish joy seeing the bite mark indented in his skin for the world to see.
You both stayed there, heavy breathing patterns matching each other’s in the afterglow of your combined orgasms. Silco savored the feeling of being buried inside you, and you savored the feeling of being stuffed oh so full of him.
Carefully, he reached a hand towards the compartment where the black box had been. He sifted through its contents, the faint sound of objects clinking and rattling together quieter than your labored panting.
Every one of your five senses was heightened—all while your mind was absolutely deliriously drunk on him—so you could just barely make out the sounds of another click then a spark followed by the sizzle and scent of spicy herbs filling your nose.
Silco shifted, leaning back with his now softening cock still buried inside your sore pussy, mumbling something intelligible between exhausted sighs.
His free hand tangled in your hair gently but firm, lightly tugging your head off his shoulder. You whined and followed his silent commands.
It’s not like you could really fight against it if you wanted to, you could barely keep your head up.
“My sweet lamb.” Silco chuckled deeply, his thumb caressing your nape as he observed the state of your face.
Your eyes were glossy with tears, your small amount of makeup smeared all over your cheeks. Your hair had stuck to your skin thanks to the sweat beading at your forehead. Your lips burned a crimson red from how hard you bit down on them, and drool coated the sides of your chin.
So fucking beautiful.
You whined as you watched him raise a lit cigar to his lips and take a long drag, the embers at the foot flaring an almost identically deep orange to his left eye. Smoke coiled from the corners of his mouth, spiraling to the ceiling of the booth before dissolving.
Silco’s eyes locked with your half-lidded ones, “Do you believe you’ve sinned?”
That same question from before.
You blinked slowly, nuzzling into his palm when he moved the hand in your hair to cup your chin, squishing your cheeks.
“Mhm…” You nodded, lashes fanning over your cheeks when he squished them even tighter.
Silco smiled, smoke still curling from his lips as he took a second drag of his cigar—this time much slower and measured. His cheeks puffed up as he collected another cloud. The scent of rich tobacco hung thickly in the air, potent in the smell of sex.
He leaned in close and gave a subtle nod of his chin signaling you to open your mouth. You obeyed, parting your lips. His thumb dragged your bottom lip down exposing the inside of your mouth like an offering.
“Good.” He murmured.
Maintaining eye contact, Silco tilted his head and exhaled the smoke directly into your mouth. It was warm and bitter, the taste of spicy herbs intoxicating with a bite that stung your throat on its way down, stirring something deep in your heaving chest.
Silco kissed you again, slower, deeper, yet still darker. The smoke lingered between your joined mouths intensifying the taste of tobacco as it curled inside you. He soon slipped his tongue in once again as if he meant to brand you from the inside out.
Who knows how much time had passed ever since you entered the confessional. You came in here with a need to wash away your guilt and shame, to be granted absolution of the title sinner your parents bestowed upon you.
But now their hateful words lingered no longer.
You moaned into his mouth, pulling back with your tongue hanging out dumbly and hot breath hitting over his chin, more than one string of venomous saliva connecting the two of you together.
Mass was surely to start soon judged by the sounds of people crowding into the cathedral.
The rosary that’d been wrapped tightly around your wrists fell to the floor of the booth once Silco released it.
You had to get up and clean yourself.
Silco’s hand cupped the side of your cheek as he leaned in again like a man starved, wanting to taste more of you with the lingering burn of his cigar.
Yet here you stayed just for a little while longer, your weakened arms lazily clinging to your priest like a hail Mary.
His chest rumbled with soft groans as he kissed another puff of smoke into your needy whiny mouth.
This was just one of your many future communions as Silco promised, his gravelly words echoing in your hazed mind.
Forgive me Father, for I am a sinner.
Silco shifted again, carefully extracting his softened cock from your dripping pussy. A trickle of his cum mixed with your juices followed, coating the insides of your trembling thighs and his lap.
You couldn’t help but whine at the emptiness only for him to shut you up with his tongue, his genuine laugh muffling against your lips.
But if sinning truly felt this good…
Finally, you both pulled away to rest your foreheads on one another, too tired to move from this overly clingy bear hug despite knowing the two of you should really be getting up by now to clean yourselves for Mass.
By God’s grace may it never end.